


Kyr'stad'alor

by The_Dark_Lord_of_Dragon_Kind



Series: Oya Manda [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Qui-Gon Jinn Bashing, The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Lord_of_Dragon_Kind/pseuds/The_Dark_Lord_of_Dragon_Kind
Summary: Obi-wan Kenobi returns to the Mandalorian Sector with the Darksaber, his beskar'gam, and a plan.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bo-Katan Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Tarre Vizsla, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Series: Oya Manda [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009308
Comments: 100
Kudos: 470





	1. The Journey to Manda'yaim

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this idea for a while, ever since I realized how much people liked The Darksaber. I now have a few chapters and a good idea of where this is going.
> 
> 'lek means yes  
> Manda is the Mandalorian heaven/collective soul. It's where all the Mandalorian dead are, marching far away.  
> Vor'e means thanks  
> Cin Vhetin translates to white field, but refers to the time during which an outsider becomes Mandalorian.  
> Gai Bal Manda translates to name and soul, but is the term for a Mandalorian adoption.  
> dar'buir means no-longer parent, or someone who has failed their duties as a parent so catastrophicly that they are no longer a parent.  
> buir means parent  
> Manda'yaim is the planet Mandalore  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad means "I know your name as my child", and is the ritual phrase of adoption.  
> Su cuy'gar literally means "You're still alive" but is a common Mandalorian greeting.  
> Ibic Ben'ika means "this is little Ben". 'ika is a suffex that can be used to mean little or simply to show affection, when put on the end of a name.  
> buc’ye means helmet  
> cyar’ika means sweetheart, or something similar. I think it literally translates to little beloved one.  
> osik is a curse word.  
> ven’ridduir means future spouse.

Obi-wan had never imagined that he might end up on the run from the Jedi Order. He had imagined himself kicked out, of course, or leaving the Order live with Satine. But he had never imagined himself on the run from the Order. He simply couldn’t see himself doing something so terrible it would send the entirety of the Jedi Order after him. Apparently, all it took was to win a duel against his master by accidentally kicking him in the most sensitive area.

Obi-wan still didn’t know what, exactly had make Jinn think he had fallen. He had meditated on it for the first few days in hyperspace, dissecting the fight and his vision. The closest he had come to an answer was that Jinn had felt humiliated by his defeat, and had also felt his ability to pick random people up in seedy bars had been threatened, so the mix of those two feelings had made him frightened. After those first few days, Obi-wan had managed to push those thoughts out of his mind.

But now, those thoughts had come swarming into the forefront of his mind as he stared at his recently acquired comm.

“ _Do it sooner rather than later_ ,” Tarre urged. “ _Your friend will go to bed soon, and the sooner you do it, the easier it will be_.”

“’Lek,” Obi-wan agreed. He closed his eyes and pressed the call button before he could chicken out. A few silent moments passed.

“Hello?” Quinlan asked.

“Hello, Quin,” Obi-wan greeted him. “How are things at the Temple? I hope you aren’t in trouble because of me.”

“Obi-wan!” Bant cried out. “Quinlan kept on saying you would call, but we were so worried! They’ve been saying awful things about you: that you’ve fallen and are going to attack us. And even the Council says you’ve fallen.”

“I haven’t fallen,” Obi-wan assured her. “All I did was beat Master Jinn in a duel by accidentally kicking him in a very sensitive spot. I did promise Quinlan I’d call everyone, but I was going to call Quinlan first to see if there is anyone I shouldn’t call.”

“Lots of people are super freaked out,” Quinlan said slowly. “Everyone remembers Bruck and… well I’ll have to investigate who you should call besides myself and Bant.”

“That bad?” Obi-wan asked.

“I’m sorry,” Bant tried to comfort him. “It’s the Council’s fault. They’ve declared you to be likely fallen and a fugitive. Will you be ok? What are your plans?”

“I won’t tell you much, especially over an unencrypted comm-call,” Obi-wan warned. “But I took enough from the Council Money Vault that I’m set for a while. And I’m going to make it so that there’s no way the Jedi Order can approach me.”

“Do you have a plan for that?” Quinlan asked skeptically.

“I do,” Obi-wan confirmed. “It’ll be crazy, but those are the best sort of plans. But listen, I don’t want to talk about all this heavy stuff. Are there any scandals going on?”

“The only thing anyone will talk about is you,” Bant grumbled. “The only good thing that’s happened to us is a new diner opened up in Coco town a day ago. I’ve tried it, and the food is heaven.”

The three of them continued talking about meaningless things, reaffirming their friendship, until Bant and Quinlan had to go.

“ _That was nice,_ ” Obi-wan told Tarre, smiling.

“ _I am glad_ ,” Tarre answered, and Obi-wan could hear the smile in his voice and through their bond. “ _You deserve nice things, Ob’ika._ ”

  
  


Obi-wan had painted his armor green, for duty, the alter on which he had sacrificed so much, and black, for justice, which he planned to give and to get. He had acquired a long white cape to represent his fresh start in the galaxy as a Mandalorian warrior at Tarre’s suggestion. So the few times he strode off his ship, the galaxy just saw a young Mandalorian warrior.

Each night, Obi-wan spend a whole day, or sometime more, with Tarre. Tarre had begun teaching Obi-wan how to connect to the Manda through the force. Obi-wan couldn’t do Force healing the way the Temple healers could, but he could recover from things faster. Calling on the Manda took breaking some habits from the Temple, but once he had done it, he learned fast. Obi-wan was already progressing far beyond anything Jinn might have taught him.

But Tarre wasn’t just teaching Obi-wan about the force. He was also teaching him about politics, specifically Mandalorian politics. Though Tarre knew little about the modern political landscape of Mandalore, he had ruled all the Mando’ade as the Mand’alor, which gave him invaluable experience in wrangling Mandalorians.

“ _You’re learning fast,_ ” Tarre said approvingly, one night, as they were plotting together.

“Vor’e,” Obi-wan said with a smile.

“ _It’s a pleasure to teach a young Mandalorian who puts in so much effort and learns so quickly,_ ” Tarre answered warmly.

“ _Am I a Mandalorian?_ ” Obi-wan asked, turning to Tarre.

“ _Absolutely_ ,” Tarre confirmed. “ _All you need is a clan, and your_ Cin Vhetin _will be finished._ ”

“ _I’m sure Satine will welcome me into her clan,_ ” Obi-wan suggested, but immediately felt disappointment through his bond with Tarre. “ _Or_ ,” he continued, baffled at Tarre’s uncharacteristic lack of bluntness, “ _I could… do whatever you were going to suggest._ ”

“ _The latter sounds like an excellent idea,_ ” Tarre exclaimed, and then didn’t say anything more. The disappointment was gone, but there was a strong air of nervousness that remained.

“ _Are you going to tell me what you are thinking?_ ” Obi-wan asked, sending a pulse of confusion at Tarre.

“ _It’s not…_ ” Tarre trailed off. “ _It’s more about realizing that you already have a clan._ ”

“ _I…_ _do?_ ” Obi-wan asked. He had thought he needed to be adopted into a clan to join one, and he didn’t remember being adopted.

“ _I said the_ Gai Bal Manda _to you, really quietly,_ ” Tarre admitted. “ _So… you’re part of Clan Vizsla._ ”

“ _Wait, when?_ ” Obi-wan demanded.

“ _After your_ dar’buir _, Jinn, accused you of falling, I realized that you needed a_ buir _,_ ” Tarre explained. “ _I said the_ Gai Bal Manda _when we were in orbit around Coruscant._ ”

“ _I wish you had told me sooner,_ _before we were nearly to_ Manda’yaim _,_ ” Obi-wan sighed. Part of him was a bit irritated that Tarre had adopted him without his agreement or knowledge, but at the same time, he understood Tarre’s culture. And he did like the idea of Tarre being more than just his teacher. “ _I don’t think it counts, since I didn’t hear you. But, if you say the_ Gai Bal Manda _again, this time so that I can hear you, I’ll call you_ buir _._ ”

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Obi-wan,” Tarre said joyfully.

“Vor’e, buir,” Obi-wan chuckled.

  
  


Much of Manda’yaim was covered in desert, but there were a few green areas, where gravity had gathered what little water remained. There were also cities, rising sharply out of the sandy desert, encased in domes. Population density was high in those cities, which had one important benefit: it made a New Mandalorian policy reasonable – that of putting comm stations everywhere in the city for people who might loose their comms or simply need a longer range comm. So, not long after Obi-wan landed in Sunari, he was able to find such a comm station. He quickly punched in a comm number he had memorized before leaving Manda’yaim.

It took a lone time for the com call to be answered.

“Hello?” Sabine asked. “Who is this?”

“Su cuy’gar,” Obi-wan said, grinning. “Ibic Ben’ika.”

“What’s going on?” Satine asked. “Are you calling from inside _Sundari_?”

“I’m here, yes,” Obi-wan confirmed. “Have you gotten any official communication from the Order?”

“No,” Satine said slowly. “Should I have? Do they know you’re here?”

“I’d rather they didn’t find out I’m here,” Obi-wan admitted. “I don’t want to talk about this over a com. Is there a time we can meet up? Somewhere privet, so I can take off my buc’ye without worrying about too many other people seeing?”

“We can go to that hotel Death Watch blew up,” Satine suggested. “I will have to bring guards, though. Would… ten at night work for you?”

“That sounds great,” Obi-wan confirmed. “Bring guards you trust, though. I don’t want this getting out.”

“I will,” Satine agreed, and Obi-wan could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll see you then.”

  
  


She didn’t. Satine actually saw him at 10:07, because her last meeting had run over.

“I’m sorry,” Satine apologized once they were tucked away in one of the mostly-intact rooms. It would be hard to see inside, and Obi-wan had positioned himself in such a way that no one would be able to see his face once he took off his helmet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Obi-wan assured her, taking off his helmet. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’m delighted to see you, cyar’ika,” Satine smiled, stepping forward to hug Obi-wan. “First, I brought Bo Katan with me.” She gestured to the young woman in beskar’gam hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Obi-wan said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too,” Bo Katan answered.

“But second: why all the secrecy? And I’m glad you returned, but why did you?” Satine asked. “I thought we agreed that you struggled too much to become a Jedi to throw it all away.”

“I was sparring with Jinn, not long after I returned to the Temple. I won by accidentally kicking Jinn below the belt, and Jinn claimed I had fallen,” Obi-wan explained. “I had a vision that warned me that the Council was going to throw me out after they looked through my mind, even though I haven’s fallen, so I stole some money from the Jedi Council, repainted the armor I took from Deathwatch, bought a ship, and came here.”

“I was hoping you could marry me and live with me,” Satine sighed. “I guess you can’t, can you?”

“I can’t marry you and live with you openly without bringing the Jedi Order down on Manda’yaim,” Obi-wan agreed unhappily.

“That’s osik,” Bo Katan snapped. “Look – I don’t know you as well as I’d like, considering you’re Satine’s ven’ridduir, but you’re her ven’ridduir. Surely she can protect you using her authority over Manda’yaim. Jedi can’t just arrest planetary rulers over nothing.”

“That would be worse,” Obi-wan said firmly. “That would make Mandalore a threat. It wouldn’t be as bad as the last time the Jedi Order came to Manda’yaim in force, but if they know I’m here and can’t secure me through diplomacy, they will use force. And the Republic won’t stop them if they say I’m fallen and Sith. Sith are always under the jurisdiction of the Jedi Order.”

“Osik,” Bo Katan grumbled. “I guess that option’s off the table. Nobody wants Manda’yaim to be invaded.”

“It wouldn't be an invasion,” Obi-wan clarified. “Probably just a strike team, but they’d kill anyone who gets in their way.”

Satine muttered unhappily under her breath at the idea of violence coming to her planet and hugged Obi-wan closer until he relaxed into her embrace.

“Will you go then?” she asked softly, regretfully.

“No,” Obi-wan shook his head. “I have a plan to bring the remnants of Deathwatch to heel. And it involves the Darksaber and a new identity for me. With your agreement, I’ll take over Deathwatch and keep them busy.”

“Let’s discuss this more in the Palace,” Satine suggested with a smile. “It sounds like you might be staying for a while.”


	2. Oyayc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satine has to deal with a younger sister and a plot to take over the rest of the Mandalorian people. The younger sibling manages to be far worse than the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Wookiepedia, Obi-wan was born in 57 BBY, and the Great Clan War ended in 32 BBY. That makes Obi-wan 25 in 32 BBY. I tried to find out how old Satine was at the same time, but I couldn’t find any evidence, so I assigned her Obi-wan’s age. This is Important.
> 
> Oyayc means alive  
> Di'kut means idiot  
> Osik is a swear word  
> Taung is not exactly Mando'a, but it's the name of the ancient species who were the first Mandalorians. The Taung are currently extinct, but while adopting other species into the Mandalorian ranks, there were absolutely half-Taung children that started popping up. Now, around 4,000 years after the Taung started going extinct, many Mandalorians have some Taung ancestry. This is Logic, and I will refuse to believe anything else.  
> Kad Ha'ringir is the ancient Mandalorian god of war, worshiped even before Mandalorians named themselves the Mando'ade.  
> Cyar'ika means sweetheart  
> Manda'yaim refers to the planet Mandalore  
> Beskar is Mandalorian iron, a super secret alloy that only Mandalorians know the secret to making.  
> 'ika is a suffix that can turn a name or even noun into a nickname. It means little.  
> Kyr'stad means Death Watch, though a better translation might be Death Society.  
> The Haat Mando'ade are the True Mandalorians, a faction that was destroyed by Death Watch, who tricked a number of Jedi into doing the dirty work of killing all the True Mandalorians except Jango Fett.

A little more than a week after Obi-wan left for the Jedi Temple, Satine was stabbed in the arm. It fortunately didn’t hurt too much, since it was with a needle.

“Di’kut! What are you doing?” Satine demanded, pulling her arm away from her assailant.

“Checking you for infections,” her little sister answered, waiting for the device attached to the needle to give a reading. “You’re acting all sad and stuff. It’s weird, since we won and you were happier not too long ago.”

“I’m missing Obi-wan,” Satine explained. “I really care about him, and now I won’t see him again. We got very, very close while we were on the run together.”

“I guess I understand. I’m sorry for stabbing you,” Bo Katan apologized, her eyes dropping down. “Osik,” she swore, her eyes bugging out. “How close did you get?!?”

Frowning and extremely confused, Satine grabbed the blood-tester from her sister and read the results.

Near-human Female with Taung Ancestry, it said. For weeks pregnant. No current diseases. Inoculated against…

Satine didn’t read the rest of the data, and instead stared at the “Four weeks pregnant” message.

"Kad Ha’ringir,” Satine whispered, calling on the god of war. “We didn’t have sex _that_ much!”

“It’s the Jedi’s?” Bo asked, eyes still wide.

“Yes,” Satine confirmed.

“You have to tell me all about him,” Bo Katan informed her. “Since he’s made you a teenage mother.”

“I am 25 years old!” Satine exclaimed, kicking Bo Katan’s shin. “And I could get an abortion! The only one who's making me a mother is myself!” But, as Bo Katan hopped around on one leg, Satine started to talk, and describe their journey together.

  
  


  
  


That information weighed heavily on Satine as she returned to the palace with her sister and cyar’ika. She hadn’t had an abortion yet, and wasn’t even sure she wanted one. She had her clan to help her, and she knew Bo Katan would take an active role in raising the child, even if Obi-wan couldn’t. And she did like the idea of a child. She could adopt, but on Manda’yaim children without parents didn’t last long before being adopted. Children were more precious than beskar. And her people wouldn’t freak out over her getting pregnant, even if there would be a lot of speculation over the identity of the father.

Satine hadn’t told Obi-wan that she was pregnant. One reason was that Obi-wan had warned her against calling the Temple too soon. But there was also the fact that Obi-wan was extremely responsible and would try to help with the child. She hadn’t wanted to draw him away from the Temple and his path in the Jedi Order. She knew how much he had struggled to maintain his position. He had told her about his brother Padawan, Xanatos, and the pain of Melida/Daan.

Now, though, both those reasons were null and void. Obi-wan had lost his position due to Jinn and he was no longer in the Temple.

Satine needed to tell him the news. Once they were in the Palace, she would.

  
  


Satine didn’t immediately get a chance to tell Obi-wan. Satine took Obi-wan and Bo to a privet room, Obi-wan immediately began talking about how the Darksaber was connected to the ghost of Tarre Vizsla, who had been teaching Obi-wan. Obi-wan told Satine that, with Tarre Vizsla’s help, he had come up with a plot to take care of Death Watch. It involved Obi-wan taking over Death Watch and leading them. Tarre Vizsla had also adopted Obi-wan, apparently, which was... interesting. Satine hadn't ever heard of the dead adopting someone into their clan. In the stories, the most they might do is nag their decedents into adopting someone. But Satine was not about to tell an ancient Mand'alor that he couldn't adopt someone.

“If Death Watch is going to be fighting, they might as well be doing something good,” Obi-wan said slyly. “And what is better than taking down slavers?”

“They are one of the few people I approve of violence against,” Satine agreed, and Bo Katan gaped at her.

“You approve of some violence?” Bo asked, clearly shocked.

“I spent almost a year on the run in the Outer Rim,” Satine pointed out. “Obi-wan and I… were targeted. Several times. We always escaped, but nothing I could have said would have helped. Slavers learn to ignore what their victims say or to respond to words with violence. I don’t think anything but violence will ever make them change their ways, Bo’ika.”

“Can I help?” Bo asked excitedly.

“Do you want to see violence?” Satine countered.

“Yes,” Bo Katan admitted quietly. “I’ve wanted to for a long time. I didn’t ever say anything, because you really don’t like violence, but if I can be a warrior for a good cause, then I do want to.”

“If it makes you happy,” Satine said slowly, valiantly trying to keep her displeasure off her face. “But if you stop wanting to be a warrior so much, come home and stay.”

“I will,” Bo Katan promised. Satine sighed and looked away from the two warriors.

“I’ll keep your sister as safe as I can,” Obi-wan promised.

“Thank you,” Satine said and took a deep breath. “OK, so the two of you will keep Kyr’stad busy. I must remain here. But you have to visit.”

“I can make Bo my second,” Obi-wan suggested. “We can visit you one at a time while we keep control over Kyr’stad.”

“Wonderful idea,” Satine said nervously, and then spoke without thinking. “Also, I’m pregnant. The child will be yours by blood, if you care.”

“I’m going to be a father?” Obi-wan asked. He did seem a bit terrified, but Satine had feared worse at night when she had no defenses against all her irrational doubts and fears.

“You know Mando’ade place little importance on bloodline,” Satine hedged. “You don’t have to help me raise the ad if you don’t want to.”

“I would love to help you raise our future child,” Obi-wan said earnestly. “But only if you want me to.” Satine had to smile at that as she shook her head at him.

“Of course I want you to help,” Satine assured him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, cyar’ika,” Obi-wan answered, staring into her eyes.

“What about Death Watch recruitment tactics!” Bo Katan yelled, interrupting their moment. Satine turned to glare at her sister, and noticed Obi-wan doing something similar. “Because we’ll have to change whatever propaganda they use,” Bo Katan explained, in a much more reasonable volume, seemingly relieved that they were no longer staring into each other’s eyes. “Since we’re, you know, no longer going to be trying to kill my sister and over throw the New Mandalorian government.”

“Strengthen ourselves and clean our reputation in the rest of the outer rim?” Obi-wan suggested. “Or something similar? To be honest, I was hoping to make it a bit closer to what the Haat Mando’ade were doing, in terms of being relatively moderate. That would make us not only the only organization of Traditionalist Mandalorians beyond the clans, but a good option which people will want to go to.”

“That might work,” Bo Katan agreed. “People will like that, especially the newer recruits who didn’t have the option of the Haat Mando’ade.”

“Now that we have a plan for the short term, we need to plan for the long term,” Obi-wan said. “I’m talking about where we want to be when the three of us end up dead from old age. Because after that, this system we’re thinking of making would probably devolve into conflict. I want Kyr’stad and the New Mandalorians to become more closely allied by the end of a few decades.”

“Death Watch won’t accept me,” Satine pointed out. “Nor will any of their people and allies accept the New Mandalorian way of life.”

“Only because you’re so against any form of violence,” Obi-wan countered. “If you allow for self defense in official policy, then they’ll like you a lot more.”

“Self-defense is fine, but it’s a slippery slope,” Satine disagreed. “Mandalore the Ultimate launched his attack on the Republic partly in order to preserve, to defend, the Mandalorian culture. Attack and defense is less well defined in Mandalorian culture, both new and old.”

“I know,” Obi-wan sighed. “Think about it, though. Compromise is an important part of peaceful negotiations. We don’t have to agree on this now and who knows – maybe one of the three of us will come up with a better plan.”

“I will think about it,” Satine agreed.

Obi-wan smiled – beamed – at her, and Satine became lost in his eyes again. They began to draw closer to each other, but were interrupted by the sound of Bo Katan’s chair falling over. They turned to watch Bo Katan run for the door.

“I approve, but I don’t want to watch you!” Bo Katan called as she opened the door. “Icky grownup stuff!” Satine turned back to Obi-wan. The mood had been broken, but she thought that, with a little effort, it could be fixed. Obi-wan seemed to agree.

  
  


Hours later, lying in bed next to Obi-wan, Satine had to smile at the strange changes her life had taken. Obi-wan was still as reckless as ever, but he would be able to visit her to help her raise their child, and they had exchanged marriage oaths. Bo Katan might have decided to become a warrior, which Satine wasn’t happy about, but she knew that Bo Katan and Obi-wan would look out for each other, would guard each other’s backs. They had a plan for Death Watch, which for so long had been a threat to her life and her government. Satine could only hope nothing went wrong. This was what she loved about politics: the hidden plans and careful plots to ensure safety and peace for everyone. Nothing about this was stuffy and full of old people trying to get more power and wealth before they died. Still smiling, Satine drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bo Katan was on the edge of getting radicalized and joining Death Watch, but instead Obi-wan unknowingly saved her yet she's still joining Death Watch.  
> Also, Korkie Kyrze is a Kenobi.


	3. Oya Kyr'stad!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces of Obi-wan's plan have started falling into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the armed domestic terrorists who were somehow less deserving of tear gas and rubber bullets than peaceful protesters who were against racism and murder. Apparently it's ok to bring guns to the House and Senate and protest against democracy but it's not ok to have a peaceful protest against institutional racism and police brutality???? For some strange, unfathomable reason, I think it should be the other way around. I think that reason might be common sense...
> 
> On that note, translations are in the End Notes!

The next morning, they put their plan into motion. Satine gave Obi-wan a small fighter ship in the Traditionalist style and a secure commlink. They were painfully aware that the longer Obi-wan stayed with her, the more likely it was for people to connect the dots. Their plotting would have to be enough.

So, hours after Obi-wan woke up, Obi-wan’s ship, sleek and deadly in a purely Mandalorian style, dropped out of hyperspace above Concord Dawn, where Death Watch’s main base was. It was where most of their recruitment happened, and their most powerful stronghold. They had stayed away from the people of Concord Dawn, preferring to use the base as a staging ground. Satine had been planning on sending them packing – there weren’t so many of them that she couldn’t – but with their new plan, Obi-wan had come up with a better use for that base.

His ship touched down on a small clearing near the main base, and Obi-wan walked out, ignoring the weapons pointed his way.

“Su cuy’gar,” he called. “I want to see Kyr’stad’alor.” He waved the hilt of the Darksaber at them.

“Follow me,” one of the higher ranking warriors barked. Obi-wan quickly closed up his ship and followed her.

Obi-wan was quickly lead deep into the base. As was common among more secretive Mandalorian bases, much of it was placed below ground, with only the fortifications above. But there were murals on the walls, and trophies at various tasteful places. It was beautiful, despite the fact that function had clearly been put before the art. When Obi-wan finally reached the throne room, he suppressed a laugh. The current Kyr’stad’alor was Pre Vizsla, the son of the old Kyr’stad’alor, who had recently died mysteriously. The funny thing was that Pre Vizsla was only slightly older than Obi-wan himself. It seemed familiar, this youthfulness of leaders, and Obi-wan’s heart ached at the reminder of Melida/Daan. How he wished everything hadn’t gone wrong there. But he had learned from his mistakes. This time, he would succeed in his goals. He had to. In the balance was not a single planet, but the ashes of a forgotten Empire that had once controlled a third of the galaxy, and a people who had once helped sack Courscant itself. Failure here – Obi-wan destabilizing the sector – would have a negative affect across the galaxy. Melida/Daan had stuck to itself, fighting over the same planet and refusing to retreat or involve too many outsiders. Fighting in the Mandalore sector had always spilled over into the neighboring sectors, and could pop up clear across the galaxy every now and then. A few decades before, a small group of True Mandalorians had ambushed a larger group of Death Watch warriors within sight of the Jedi Temple. Obi-wan didn’t remember, but it had been a popular story in the Temple for years afterwards.

“Su cuy’gar,” Pre Vizsla greeted him. “Have you come to return the Darksaber to me?”

“No,” Obi-wan answered, channeling the serine calmness he had learned in the Temple. “Currently, Kyr’stad is the only Mando’ade organization that brings in people from multiple clans, besides the New Mandalorian government. But because of Kyr’stad’s decisions and policies, most traditional Mando’ade cannot support Kyr’stad, because you are fighting the pacifists the wrong way.”

“And what’s the right way, if not to kill them?” Pre Vizsla demanded, and Obi-wan could hear the sneer in his voice.

“With the same weapons they wield,” Obi-wan answered, “and by undermining their message, by proving that violence can do good. Once Kyr’stad has done that, the Clans will flock to Kyr’stad.”

“You are a fool,” Pre Vizsla snarled, standing up. “Don’t you know that I will never take your advice? I don’t need your idiotic suggestions.”

“Never is a long time,” Obi-wan answered evenly, suppressing a smile as he got to the conclusion of his speech. “But I agree that you are in no state to take my advice now. Which is why what I said was not advice and why I challenge you for the leadership of Kyr’stad. Only the strongest may rule.”

“Only the strongest may rule,” Pre Vizsla agreed furiously. He pulled out his blasters and started firing.

Obi-wan smoothly ducked out of the way of the bolts and began returning fire. He let the Darksaber remain at his side. Though his skills with a saber were far superior, the Force itself was enough of an advantage and Obi-wan didn’t want to be too obvious. So instead, he closed the gap between them and began to use the force to strengthen him as he grappled his enemy.

Pre Vizsla was clearly an excellent warrior. He had likely been trained almost since birth to fight. But so had Obi-wan, and Obi-wan had been trained in many different styles of fighting. And that advantage was compounded by Obi-wan’s ability to use the Force. Obi-wan knew where Pre Vizsla would move before Pre Vizsla did, sometimes. It made Obi-wan highly effective, and before long, Obi-wan managed to pin Vizsla to the ground. Obi-wan finally ignited the Darksaber, and it sung beside Pre’s throat.

“You have lost,” Obi-wan told him.

“Kill me!” Pre Vizsla demanded.

“No,” Obi-wan said, disengaging the Darksaber and stepping back.

“It is the Mandalorian way,” Pre Vizsla snarled, scrambling to his feet.

“It is also the Mandalorian way to be practical,” Obi-wan argued. “You are a good warrior, and as you grow older, you will become better. Why should I kill you, when it will be a loss to Mandalore?”

“Because I will be a threat to you!” Pre Vizsla snapped.

“ _I would hope you wouldn't be_ ,” another voice said, in an ancient accent. Tarre Vizsla materialized, a vibrant yet translucent ghost. “ _I am Tarre Vizsla, the ancient_ Mand’alor _and_ Aliit’alor _of Clan Vizsla. And this is Ben Vizsla, my_ ad.”

There was a shocked silence from everyone.

“ _How is this possible?_ ” Pre asked.

“ _The Darksaber,_ ” Tarre answered. “ _My soul is tied to it, so I can speak through it from the_ Ka’ra _, when my blade is carried in the right hands. I ask you, Pre Vizsla, my descendant, to accept_ _Ben Vizsla, my_ ad, _as_ Kyr’stad’alor _. I can do little to affect the physical world, but I can help my_ ad _plan. His plans for the so called_ New Mandalorians _are clever, and I have helped shape them._ _It was little known, even in my time, but Mandalore the Ultimate believed that politics was simply another field of battle. But it is one that requires different weapons and different tactics._ ”

Tarre faded away, but as he did so, he let out a gentle pulse through the Force, which felt utterly Mandalorian in nature. The Mandalorians in the room swayed slightly, which told Obi-wan that they, too, had felt it.

No.

Not Obi-wan. Ben.

After spending so much time with Tarre, _Ben_ had gained a significant amount experience with body language. Ben could tell that Pre was accepting that they had just been visited by Tarre. A brush of the Force seemed to indicate that Pre was less angry, though the Beskar in Pre’s armor protected him from most of Ben’s probe. Pre stared at Ben for a long moment.

“ _Why can Tarre appear to guide you, when they could not appear to guide his clan before?_ ” Pre asked.

“ _I have a special connection to the_ Ka’ra,” Ben explained. “ _I’ve always had it._ ”

Pre nodded slowly, and then knelt, and bowed his head. The other Kyr’stad warriors followed suit.

“Oya manda!” Ben exclaimed, igniting and raising the Darksaber above his head. “Oya Kyr’stad!”

“Oya manda!” the warriors roared, and Ben smiled when he was able to pick out Pre’s voice. “Oya Kyr’stad!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Su cuy'gar - hello or, more literally, 'you're still alive'  
> Kyr'stad'alor - leader of Death Watch  
> Kyr'stad - Death Watch  
> Mando'ade - Mandalorian(s)  
> Mand'alor - Mandalore, in Basic. The sole ruler of the Mandalorian people  
> Aliit'alor - leader of a Clan. I made this one up, using the word 'aliit' (family or clan) and the word 'alor' (leader)  
> ad - child, son or daughter  
> Ka'ra - stars, or the mythological council of dead Mandalores/Mand'alore  
> Oya manda - an expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity  
> Oya - a cheer with many meanings
> 
> Some translations come from mandoa.org. The rest come from my own mind because of course I should try to learn to speak Mando'a.


	4. A Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satine gives a speech. That's it.
> 
> It's an important speech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Inauguration Day!

The day after Obi-wan had left for Kyr’tsad, Satine stood on her podium, before her people and breathed in a deep breath as the cheers began to die down. Below her were a large percentage of the people of Sundari. It was a day off for most of the city, a holiday for the Mandalorian day of renewal. Satine had been planning on giving a short speech to kick off the festivities, that morning, but she had totally changed her speech. It now fit better with the ancient meaning of the day, which involved reaffirming the desire to fight Arasuum, the sloth god of stagnation, by causing growth and change. Satine didn’t know if this counted as growth, but it was absolutely change.

“Thank you,” she said to the crowd, and there was silence. “I want to tell you a story of violence,” she told them, and cataloged their expressions. Most of those in the crowd were New Mandalorians, and they seemed happy with her speech, so far. The Traditionalist Mandalorians, distinguishable by the small pieces of armor they were wearing, seemed irritated. Satine knew why: they were expecting something with a clear, New Mandalorian moral. But Satine had other plans.

“Padawan Kenobi and I were separated from Knight Jinn often, when I was on the run, since we found it efficient for Knight Jinn to draw our pursuers away. One day, Padawan Kenobi and I stumbled across a young man in a slum, who was serving food to the hungry. Now, I didn’t want any of that food, because I had wanted to have it go to the hungry, but neither Padawan Kenobi or I had eaten all day, and it was evening. We had spent the entire day running. So we got in line for some of the food. We were nearly to the front of the line when someone who had eaten the food collapsed.” There were gasps from the crowd, and Satine paused to let it pass.

“Suddenly, there were armed thugs surrounding us,” Satine continued. “People who had eaten the food were falling down, unconscious. I didn’t know what was happening, but Padawan Kenobi did. They were slavers. These were an uncommonly intelligent group, with an innovative technique, according to Padawan Kenobi, but nothing special beyond that.”

The New Mandalorians were horrified, and even most of the traditional Mandalorians were wide-eyed with horror or disgusted at the slavers. Satine waited until the murmurs died down.

“Padawan Kenobi pushed me to the ground and attacked the slavers. Heads flew. One of them called a retreat, and they began to run. Padawan Kenobi darted over to me, pulled me up, and asked me if I wanted to pursue them. Now, by that time, I had seen some work by slavers,” Satine explained. “They are cruel and brutal. The violence they visit on their victims is so awful, it’s hardly believable and they do it for terrible reasons. I knew, also, that to pursue the slavers would be to cause violence. Slavers don’t listen to words, just violence. If we went after them, they would have a quick and lethal conversation with Padawan Kenobi’s lightsaber. I hardly took a moment to decide.” Satine could see that everyone was on the edge of their seats or bouncing on their toes in anticipation and curiosity. Faction didn’t matter, just the story. It wasn’t a New Mandalorian story, and it wasn’t a traditional Mandalorian story. It was one both could understand, that both could get excited about. Satine only hoped that would prove true for the next bits.

“I agreed to pursue them,” Satine admitted, and there was a burst of sound. It was shocked, but also approving. There was both surprise and approval from both the New Mandalorians and the traditional Mandalorians. Everyone hated slavers, it seemed.

“We followed the slavers to the edge of town, where their ship was and sneaked on board while they were still looking to pursuers. We sneaked down to the hold, where the cells were. Half of the cells were packed to the brim with terrified people and the other half were ominously empty. Padawan Kenobi had me release the people while he attacked the slavers. I don’t know who many slavers died that day at Padawan Kenobi’s hand, but seeing the gratitude form the captives and knowing what their fate would have been, I could not blame Padawan Kenobi for a single life. The people he had saved would escape their brush with slaver, and the dead slavers would never hurt anyone ever again. In a perfect galaxy, none of them would have had to die. But in a perfect galaxy, they wouldn’t have become slavers. I once believed that all violence is unnecessary and evil. But that day, I had a choice between causing violence, and allowing more violence. There was no way that there would not be violence. I was grateful that Padawan Kenobi was such an excellent warrior. And for all the death Padawan Kenobi had caused, and all the violence he had visited on the slavers, the end result of his actions was less violence.” The traditional Mandalorians seemed shocked and delighted that Satine was admitting that there was a use for violence. Many New Mandalorians seemed uneasy. It wasn’t easy to hear one’s leader talking about ideas that were practically forbidden in New Mandalorian ideology. But, though Satine didn’t particularly enjoy saying the things she was saying, it was necessary.

“These events didn’t have an impact on my policies, as you know,” Satine continued. “The Mandalore Sector is protected well enough, and slavers know better than to come here, mostly, I realize, because of the fact that slavers can’t tell the difference between New Mandalorians and Traditionalist Mandalorians, and they aren’t willing to go toe to toe with even a single Mandalorian Warrior. But I thought that the status quo would be enough. I am aware that, no matter what I say or do, Traditionalist Mandalorians will raise warriors. I hoped that the danger of running into Mandalorian Warriors would keep slavers away, while my policies would prevent another war. But the night before last, I had a vision.”

There was a subtle shock that rippled throughout the crowd. It was the word ‘vision’ that had set them off, Satine knew. In Mandalorian culture, Mand’alors and other leaders would sometimes get visions from the Ka’ra or from Kad Ha’ringir. Such visions heralded change. They happened before war. The last Mandalore to have a vision was Mandalore the Ultimate. Satine knew the Traditionalist Mandalorians were nervously excited for war. The New Mandalorians were, of course, unhappy with the idea of war, and worried about it.

“I saw warships over Coruscant,” Satine said. “There were sharp, angular ships fighting against rounded ships. As the vision went on, it became clear that there was a war, a civil war, that was tearing apart the galaxy. And then I saw the Mandalore Sector, and I was filled with gladness, because our sector, at least, was at peace. But then I turned around, and standing before me was an ancient warrior, who was carrying the Darksaber, and wearing the Mandalore’s Mask. He spoke to me in Mando’a. He asked me why I was glad that the Mandalore Sector was at peace when the rest of the galaxy was at war. I answered that I was glad to see our people spared the pain of war, of loosing loved ones. His stance became more understanding, but he asked if I did not want to spread the peace to other sectors, across the galaxy. I answered that attempting to do that would only bring the war to the Mandalorian people. The rest of the galaxy would have to choose to stop fighting, and I could not force them to stop. I could tell he disagreed, but he didn’t say anything about that. Instead he said, ‘Be careful, child of Mandalore, to ensure that peace does not mean weakness. Remember, child of Mandalore, that from violence comes peace. If the armies of the Galaxy fear you, yet know you will not attack them, they will not attack you until they have destroyed their enemies. But if you are weak, Mandalore will not be allowed to remain peaceful.’ And my vision ended.”

Satine paused to take a sip of water. There was a silence across the entire crowd.

“I will not ignore the warnings of the Ka’ra,” Satine announced. “The ancient Mand’alor was right to warn us not to let peace become weakness, especially if my vision was true, and I believe that we can be strong without sacrificing peace, and that takes me back to the first story I told you. If those terrified people had been Mandalorian warriors, none of them would have been taken, because they would have defended themselves and each other. And they would have done well to do that. Even if they had a minimal amount of training, the slavers would have hesitated to attack them. This is to say that self-defense and the defense of others is now acceptable in New Mandalorian ideology. In order to ensure everyone is capable of self-defense, there will be optional self-defense classes for adults who don’t know how to fight, as well as required self-defense lessons for all children over the age of 13. I hope none of us will need to use such skills, but I do not want us to be defenseless. Details will be coming out over the next few weeks, as we figure out the logistics and execution of this policy. Thank you, everyone.”

Satine couldn't tell if the noise that followed was approving or angry, though she thought the Traditionalists were extremely pleased with the speech. The New Mandalorians were more mixed, and Satine thought that some probably hated her for her newest policy. Satine took a deep breath, waved, and walked away from the podium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Tarre invade Satine’s dreams? Or is Satine lying about that? Who knows. Satine didn’t tell me. She says it’s not important and it’s what people believe that’s important. And since the people believe her, her speech worked as planned.  
> Next up is a time skip and chapter from the point of view of someone whose fate is tied to Mandalore and to Obi-wan.


	5. The Fated Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Inauguration Day!

Maul was perfectly capable of anything his Master sent him to do and was proud of it. When his Master had sent him to take out whoever was making some of his shipments disappear, Maul had thought it below his skills, but hadn’t said anything. He had simply sneaked onto one of the transports and had hidden above the cells where the slaves were quietly huddled together.

He quickly realized that he had gotten on the right ship when the captain started screaming over the ship speaker system about a boarding party. Soon, Maul could feel the crew’s deaths.

His first warning that this mission was going to be a lot harder than he had originally expected, was when he noticed he couldn't sense the attackers properly. They seemed to be muffled, somehow, like he was listening to something behind a thick layer of metal, except through the Force. When the attackers swept into the cargo area, he saw why: the attackers were Mandalorian.

Maul knew about Mandalorians – they were powerful warriors, and their armor was some of the best in the galaxy. It was said that proper Mandalorian armor, made of their special metal, beskar, could hide them somewhat from a force-sensitive, and it seemed to be true. Maul felt a trickle of unease, but he had a plan, which did not include killing these Mandalorians, right now. They were probably mercenaries, as many Mandalorians were, Maul guessed, and Maul had to get to the root of the problem: their employer.

By the time they landed, Maul had sneaked to the edge of the hold, so he could watch the ramp open. The hold itself had been emptied of cargo since they hadn’t wanted to remain in their cells after the Mandalorians had freed them. So Maul was alone when three Mandalorians marched to the ramp as it opened.

“Oya!” the lead one exclaimed when the ramp had lowered. Three more Mandalorians marched up to meet them.

Maul had noticed a specific pattern to the Mandalorians’ armor. They were often blue and grey with some extra colors on their gauntlets. But one of the new Mandalorians, the one in the middle, had painted his armor black and green.

“Mand’alor!” one of the warriors from the ship exclaimed as all three bowed to the newcomers. “It’s an honor.” Maul allowed himself to frown at that. He didn’t remember much of his history lessons on Mandalorians, but he was quite certain that ‘Mand’alor’ was the term for the sole leader of the Mandalorians. One other thing that he could not help but remember was the fact that Mandalorians were some of the most dangerous warriors in the galaxy, sometimes even equal to Force Sensitives. The Mand’alor would be the strongest of them, according to tradition. And, though the Mandalorians had often allied with the Sith against the Jedi, they had never particularly liked the Sith.

“I felt like I should be here,” the Mand’alor said. “Have you noticed anything… off, during your flight?”

“No, Mand’alor,” one of the Mandalorians from the ship answered. “Naas.”

The Mand’alor stalked forward into the ship and Maul could tell by the way his helmet turned, that he was looking around in Maul’s direction.

“Something is wrong,” the Mand’alor announced, a growl clear even through the distortion of his vocoder. He turned his entire body to face Maul, who shrunk back, wrapping the Force around him to hide him from sight. “There is a shadow,” the Mand’alor said slowly as if testing to see if what he said was correct. “One close enough to hear us.”

Maul wasn’t sure how the Mand’alor knew this, so he wrapped his anger at this situation around him and scanned the Mandalorians, attempting to learn more about their feelings, even through their armor. Maul immediately noticed something alarming: the Mand’alor was clearly a Force-sensitive, and a trained one. But he felt neither light nor dark nor gray, but like something else entirely, like defending one’s home by conquering another’s, like too-spicy food that burned, that exploded with taste across the tongue, like revenge and accepting losses in a battle, like a cold, hard metal that even a lightsaber could not cut through.

“Come out, dar’jeti’ika,” the Mand’alor ordered, his Force presence baring down on Maul’s.

Maul hesitated, but there was no salvaging the situation. The Mand’alor had noticed him. So he slunk out of his hiding spot.

“Greetings, Mandalore,” Maul said, cursing himself the moment the Basic pronunciation slipped out of his mouth. Perhaps the Mand’alor would have been manipulated in Maul’s favor by the Mandalorian pronunciation.

“Greetings, dar’jetii,” the Mand’alor answered. “What are you doing on my ship?”

“Is it yours?” Maul asked, baring his teeth. “It was my Master’s first. Many of our ships have been disappearing lately, and I was sent to find the culprit. Is someone paying you to do this?” Maul didn’t find that idea reasonable, if only because the Mandalorians were freeing the slaves, not profiting off them. Who would pay Mandalorians to free random slaves?

“No one is paying my people to do this,” the Mand’alor confirmed Maul’s suspicions. “And we will not stop this operation.”

“Why not?” Maul asked. “What is so important to you that you are willing to cross a Sith Lord just to free the weak?”

“A Sith Lord?” the Mand’alor repeated. “I thought you were a Dark Jedi.”

“I am Darth Maul,” Maul introduced himself honestly. He remembered that Mandalorians didn’t like it when people lied to them, and the Mand’alor would be able to sense his truthfulness. “My question still stands.”

“Then let me answer your question with a question of my own,” the Mand’alor purred. “How many Force-sensitives are on this ship?”

“You and I,” Maul answered.

“Five,” The Mand’alor corrected. “You, myself, one of my warriors… and two of the newly freed. Those two are untrained but when they are trained, they will be formidable warriors and will bring honor to their clans, just as their fellow freed will. Are they weak? Yes. But that does not mean they are not strong.”

“That makes no sense,” Maul sneered. “But I suppose it hardly matters: my orders are clear. I must destroy you.” He ignited his double-bladed lightsaber in a wordless threat.

“Di’kut,” the Mand’alor snorted as he ignited a strange, black lightsaber.

Fighting the Mand’alor was a strange experience. He was aggressive yet his defense was impeccable, mostly _because_ of the aggression, instead of despite it. Maul recognized some of the Mand’alor’s moves: there was some of Form I, with hints of Ataru (even though he wore armor) and the other most common Jedi forms. But it was all wrapped up in something strange and different, that Maul could only assume was a Mandalorian tradition. There were so many questions that Maul wanted answers to, but he did not ask them, not even to himself. He had to focus.

The Mand’alor shifted his style so that he was more defensive. But Maul couldn’t really consider it defensive when every block nearly opened Maul up to be stabbed.

“So, who’s your Master, dar’jeti’ika?” the Mand’alor asked casually as if they weren’t fighting.

“I am a Sith, not a weakling Jedi!” Maul snarled before thinking. But he was unused to talking while fighting since he had always practiced in silence, and the Mand’alor was able to take advantage of Maul’s slight hesitation as he spoke.

The Mand’alor kicked Maul in the chest and pulled Maul’s lightsaber from his hand. Maul had only a moment to realize that he had ended up with his back to the five other Mandalorians before five separate stun bolts slammed into his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maul will always fight Obi-wan Kenobi, no matter what names they may go by. And both of their fates are tied to Manda’yaim. In this universe, they have simply met their fates sooner than expected.


	6. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan puts a few very suspicious facts together with a large amount of speculation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse was not cooperating for a little while. But then, one day, I heard the humming of a lightsaber behind me, in my mind, and the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind a Mandalorian mask. I turned around, expecting Tarre Vizsla, but the one standing there was not wearing Mandalorian armor and their lightsaber was purple.  
> "I come bearing news of a plot twist," Revan themself intoned.
> 
> I found out how true it is that Revan is an expert tactician: they hijacked a single scene and somehow changed the entire story.

“We’ll be avoiding the Mandalorian sector,” the slaver said as he plugged an odd route into his nav. Normal shipments might go towards the core via the Hydian way, Bandomeer, but since Obi-wan’s first mission, Bandomeer had been more heavily patrolled. Ships like the one Quinlan was on had taken to turning at Botajef to go a little way down the Salin Corridor, before slipping through the smugglers’ lanes through the Mandalore sector, down to the Vaathkree Trade Corridor. The ships would then return to the Hydian way before making their way down into the core. The new way was similar, except that it skirted around Bandomeer by going into the Quelii sector, near Dathomir, and rejoining the Hydian way in the Taris subsector. “Ships have been going missing there,” the slaver explained, as he noticed Master Tholme’s puzzled frown.

“I haven’t heard of that,” Master Tholme grumbled. “How many have disappeared?”

“All of the ones who went through the sector,” the slaver answered. “It’s been going on for about a month, and it’s started happening in the Meerian sector, too, less than a week ago.”

Quinlan threw a glance at his master. The older man looked entirely unhappy and displeased, but Quinlan could sense his glee.

“No sign of those ships at all?” he asked.

“None,” the slaver confirmed.

“Then I suppose that will have to do,” he sighed, grimly. “The boss won’t be happy, but you know he prefers late over never.”

“I’ve never made a run to Coruscant, before,” the slaver admitted. “I am excited to provide my goods to the Hutts of Coruscant.”

“It is an honor,” Master Tholme agreed. “Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” the slaver promised, smiling greedily.

When Quinlan and his master made their report to the Jedi Council, Master Tholme brought it up.

“I don’t know what it means,” he said. “I wasn’t able to get any more information from my informant before I was unfortunately forced to kill him, but it could be good or bad, depending on whether the slaves are freed.”

“A month ago, you say it started,” Yoda stated thoughtfully. “New, this is. Snip it in the bud, we may, if another group of slavers, they are. And if allies, they may be, then help them, we can, to grow.”

Something tickled the back of Quinlan’s mind. The Mandalorian Sector. One month ago. There was a missing piece there.

Obi-wan had just returned from the Mandalore Sector, from Mandalore itself, when he had fled the Jedi Temple under suspicion of falling. Could Obi-wan have something to do with this? With the disappearing slave ships? It was an odd thought and Quinlan wasn’t sure what to make of it. For one, Obi-wan would have had to gather a fleet large enough to patrol the hyperspace lanes of an entire sector and get them set up in only a handful of days. That was crazy. Insane. Where would Obi-wan get a fleet that large, anyway? Quinlan mentally rolled his eyes as he followed his master out of the Council chamber. It was just Quinlan’s desire to know what Obi-wan was up to that was making him come up with strange theories.

On the other hand, Quinlan thought as he ate dinner a few hours later, Obi-wan would absolutely want to free slaves. This was something like Obi-wan would do. Quinlan had held Obi-wan as he cried after telling Bant and him about Bandomeer. He had told them about the collar they had put around his neck, how he had offered to blow himself up, for Jinn and the planet. Obi-wan had not spent long as a slave. But the taste he had gotten was enough to make him hate slavery with a bitter fire even 17 years after the fact. Obi-wan would try something like freeing all the slaves of the galaxy, Quinlan knew without a doubt. He would try, despite the impossible odds.

It wasn’t the first time Obi-wan had faced impossible odds. As Quinlan lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, he remembered Melida/Daan. At the age of 13, Obi-wan had led a child army to victory against veterans. He had ended a centuries-long war by force. Obi-wan hadn’t told them much about Melida/Daan, but Quinlan thought that maybe Obi-wan shouldn’t have won, by all the laws of the universe, that it had been truly an impossible task, except for the fact that it had been Obi-wan who had set his mind to it. If anyone could raise a large fleet in a few days, it would be Obi-wan. Quinlan knew that with the same certainty that he knew he liked gloves.

Obi-wan changed out of his beskar’gam and put it out of sight of the hologram system before he connected his personal comm to it. It had been almost a month since he had last spoken to his jetii friends, and he was more than ready to speak to them again. As Obi-wan waited for the comms to connect, he briefly regretted that he had so quickly found a new duty to demand his time, but he was happy to be protecting people.

“Obi-wan!” Quin exclaimed gleefully. His voice, though full of emotion, was quiet, and he seemed to be hurrying somewhere. “I’m just getting to the others. We got your message, but I’m a bit late.”

“You won’t be found, though, right?” Obi-wan asked.

“No,” Quin answered firmly. “Listen, though. I wanted to tell you something. About what the Council’s doing.”

“Are they sending out people to hunt me down?” Obi-wan asked. “Because I’m very well hidden. They wouldn’t be able to even get close to me.”

“They might be, I wouldn't know,” Quin grumbled. “But there’s been a disturbance in the Mandalore Sector.”

“What?” Obi-wan demanded. Obi-wan was very aware that he might be giving away more information about his location than he should, but if Quinlan was giving him information on the Mandalorian Sector, that suggested that Quin had already put together the hints. “What do they know? What are they doing?”

“I don’t know what they’re doing, but Master Tholme was the one who first reported the disturbance,” Quin told him, pausing and peering around some corner. “All Master Tholme and I knew at the time was that slave ships had been disappearing in the Mandalore Sector. They might have already sent a Shadow or something, but they’re hopeful that this new group is freeing slaves, not simply stealing slaves from other slavers.”

“OK,” Obi-wan breathed. “OK. That’s good.”

“So it is you?” Quinlan whispered. “I thought it was.”

“You did?” Obi-wan asked.

“It sounds like something you would want to do, and it’s just as impossible as anything else you’ve done,” Quinlan explained with a mischievous grin. “Plus, when you left the Temple, you said goodbye with a Mandalorian word.”

“It is me,” Obi-wan admitted. Quinlan gave another grin, this one triumphant, and paused in front of a door.

“Here we are,” he said, before going through the door. Bant, Galen, and Siri appeared in the blue glow of the hologram, and Obi-wan’s face broke into a smile at the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Revan hijacks the story.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos feed the dragons!


End file.
